


touch

by itsahockeynight



Series: 2018 Playoff fics [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: ... through the medium of sex, 2017-2018 NHL Season, 2018 Stanley Cup Playoffs, CONFERENCE FINALS BABY, Friends to Lovers, M/M, The Hug TM, emotional journeys, ok it’s only marginally about it but it’s the jumping off point!, sinbin prompt fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahockeynight/pseuds/itsahockeynight
Summary: When Alex does turn up, he walks across the locker room and straight into Nicke's arms.





	touch

**Author's Note:**

> \- if you’re in any way associated with the NHL or any of the players mentioned above, please close this tab  
> \- so you know how there’s that thing, “write the fanfic you wish to see in the world”? this is a “write the fanfic someone beat you to [prompting on the sinbin"](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3790.html?thread=5098190) situation. everyone wins! I hope you like it, anon.

He doesn’t even give a shit he wasn’t playing. They’re not going home. They’re going to the conference finals. They’re going to Tampa.

The guys are so fucking loud coming in. Nicke can’t control his grin, he can’t help yelling back in their faces, because this is huge. This is the happiest locker room he’s ever been in. _They did this_.

Success is fucking relative. He’s won gold medals before. This is better.

Alex doesn’t come in with the rest of them because he’s doing press, of course, so Nicke wanders across the room to lean against the wall next to his stall. Casual. As if he can’t wait to scream in Alex’s face especially. As if they haven’t been waiting for this for eleven years.

Fuck, they finally beat Pittsburgh.

When Alex does turn up, everyone starts yelling again, euphoric. When Alex does turn up, he walks across the locker room and straight into Nicke’s arms.

It is, objectively, gross, because Alex is sweaty and smelly and nearly wacks him in the face with his shoulder pads because of the height difference. But.

Alex looks at him, and Nicklas is overflowing with joy. He can’t speak, all he can do is hug Alex and hope he can read Nicke’s mind here as well as on the ice, that he knows how much this means. It’s real, it’s real and so is Alex, nearly incandescent with delight, and Nicke closes his eyes and holds on.

This is their team. These are their boys. This is everything they’ve worked so hard for for years.

He doesn’t want to let him go.

***

Nicklas waits for Alex to finish his last interview, alone in the corridor. His phone’s still going crazy and it’s nearly impossible to text with his left hand, but he messages Kris back, their parents. He’ll do the rest tomorrow.

When Alex makes it back to him he’s still beaming. Nicke bumps his shoulder and gets bumped back, and looks at him, unable to hide his own grin. He still can’t quite believe it. “Holy shit.”

Alex stops mid stride and cracks up, and Nicke has to laugh too, slightly hysterical. God.

They eventually make it to the bus, Alex squishing into the seat next to Nicke. He wasn’t expecting that, but it draws the whole team in, and it’s so great to be surrounded by all these guys. His head is buzzing with it. God he loves this team.

The bus is fucking noisy, is what that means, though, so Alex has to lean forward to talk to Tom in the seat in front of them, invading Nicke’s space. One of his hands lands high up on the inside of Nicke’s thigh, and stays there.

It’s like someone set off a firework in Nicke’s chest. Everything else in the bus fades away – if anyone is talking to him, there’s no way he’d hear them. Alex touches him all the time. This isn’t earth-shattering, it’s not new, but he’s half drunk on victory and Alex’s hand is huge and heavy and Nicke desperately wants –

He wants Alex to touch him. To move his hand. To do _something_. He’s walked this line carefully for years, but now he’s tipping down the slope, sliding from “so he’s definitely my type, but going for it is a terrible idea” to “oh fuck, get your hands on me right now” like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Alex is so close. They’re touching all the way along his side. Nicke’s a fucking idiot, this is such an important night and now all he can think of is getting his hand on his friend’s dick.

By the time Alex takes his hand away, Nicke’s a complete mess. He feels like a horny teenager, except he’d honestly be happy just to, fuck, tuck himself into Alex’s side and stay there forever.

He sits next to Carly on the plane out of self-preservation. There’s only so much he can take.

***

Alex sidles up to him as their bags are being sorted out. He’s already got Nicke’s slung over his shoulder, and maybe Nicke is imagining it, but he looks… intent. “I take you home? Or you getting lift?”

TJ was going to drive him. But.

“Uh.” Nicke bites his lip. “That’s great, yeah.” He can’t stop staring. If Alex notices he’s acting strange, hopefully he just puts it down to the emotion of the night.

Nicklas watches his profile while he drives, watches the lights flicker across his face and lets himself want, pure and simple. He wants Alex, his hands and his mouth and his big, booming laugh. He wants to touch, if he can.

Alex keeps breaking out into a little smile, one Nicke can’t help returning every time he glances over. The adrenaline rush of the win has faded, but that hasn’t stopped the buzz under his skin, and the longer he looks and the more Alex looks back, the more inevitable it feels. Maybe they can have this. Just for tonight.

It’s one thing to think these things. It’s another thing entirely to act on any of it, and it’s not as if Nicke knows how to proposition a teammate. He’s never done that before.

He doesn’t have any brilliant ideas by the time they make it to his place, or by the time Alex follows him to his door like he doesn’t want to leave.

“Shouldn’t be alone on night like this,” he says, and he sounds like he’s joking, but he’s looking at Nicke like he’s not, and Nicke can’t take it anymore.

“Alex.” He rests his palm in the center of Alex’s chest, and Alex goes still. The air around them feels like it’s crackling, charged with something. Nicke curls his fingers, looks up.

Alex is... Alex is looking at his mouth. Nicke bites his lip without thinking, and Alex flushes and looks back at his eyes. Nicke licks his lips and watches Alex’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

It’s the middle of the night. It’s the middle of the night and they’re standing on his front step like teenagers. Nicklas feels hot all over. The air is electric. Alex is leaning into his hand.

Nicke swallows, sees Alex’s eyes track the movement like Nicke’s just did. “Come in?”

Alex nods slowly, still staring at him. When Nicke turns back to the door and fumbles with his keys he comes closer, a solid wall of heat that does absolutely nothing for Nicke’s concentration. Somehow he doesn’t drop anything and they get inside eventually, Nicke’s bag thumping to the floor as soon as Alex crosses the threshold. Nicke shuts the door and turns around.

Alex crowds him up against the door, a hand on either side of his head. His eyes are so fucking blue, and he’s looking at Nicklas like he can’t look away. Like Nicke’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. He leans in, and Nicke meets him halfway.

It’s just a kiss. They bump noses and it’s a little sloppy because both of them closed their eyes and they almost missed.

It’s like nothing Nicke has ever done before. Their lips are the only place they’re touching but Nicke’s on fire, every inch of him, trembling with it. Alex’s mouth is – Alex is –

Oh God.

Nicke reaches up with his good hand to cradle the back of Alex’s head, and Alex groans and presses him properly against the door, one thigh fitting right between Nicke’s legs as he shifts, trying to find the right – _fuck_.

Nicke shudders, and Alex, one hand under Nicke’s shirt, groans again and pulls back, panting. He’s flushed and gorgeous, and Nicke wants to chase his mouth, but.

“What... Nicky, you.” He makes another noise and takes his hand off Nicke’s skin. It looks like it pains him. It fucking pains Nicke, that’s for sure. “I can’t. If this just because of tonight. I don’t – I can’t.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Nicke’s forehead bumps painfully against Alex’s collarbone as he sways forward. Alex has been looking, too. Alex wants – How long has Nicklas been missing this? He just assumed it wasn’t even an option, not worth considering. Impossible.

Alex’s shirt is scratching his face, but Nicke doesn’t lift his head. Alex smells so good, for one thing, and for another he’s so fucking overwhelmed.

Tonight is a night for the impossible becoming real, apparently.

He breathes in, out. It’s just Alex.

Alex, who’s been his best friend for a few years now. Who puts his heart completely into everything he does. Who knows him better, maybe, than anyone else.

Alex, who’s running his fingers through Nicke’s hair so carefully, like he thinks Nicke’s going to break. “You okay?”

“How –” his throat’s so dry “– how long have you –”

Alex tugs his hair a little, so Nicke looks up. His face must give some of what he’s thinking away, because Alex breaks into a smile, face going unbearably tender, and Nicke feels warm to his core. “Always. You don’t know? Thought you just not interested.”

 _Always_.

“I thought. I don’t know.” Alex is still looking at him like that, and Nicke’s heart pounds. His entire world is rearranging itself in front of him, new pieces slipping into place like they’ve always been there. Maybe they have been. “I know now.”

“Yeah?”

Nicke touches his cheek and Alex closes his eyes. “Yeah.”

He tries to put as much meaning into this kiss as he can, because Alex deserves to know what he does to Nicklas, how much this means. He cups Alex’s face, touches his hair, tugs him as close as he can. Alex is everywhere, surrounding him, hands back under his shirt like he’s staking a claim.

Jesus _fuck_.

Alex is steadily working his way down Nicke’s neck, little nibbling kisses that are turning him molten inside, and Nicke’s going to lose his mind. He wants to _touch_ , he wants to get his mouth on Alex’s skin and drive him as crazy as he’s driving Nicke, but he can’t fucking – he can’t get Alex’s shirt open with one hand, can only scrabble inefficiently at his belt and – oh. Oh wait. He can do _that_ one-handed.

When Nicke drops to his knees, Alex makes the best noise Nicke has ever heard. He hasn’t even touched his dick yet. “Nicky, baby, you –”

Oh God, he’s never going to be able to listen to Alex on the ice again. Nicke looks up, hand on Alex’s belt buckle. “Okay?”

“Fuck.” Alex braces himself against the door. He looks wrecked already. Nicke’s doing that. Fuck. “Yeah, fuck, please –” Nicke presses his face into Alex’s pants, nuzzling at his dick, breathing him in. Alex’s hips jerk, a little aborted movement, so Nicke takes pity on him and gets his pants and boxers down as quick as he can.

Oh. Oh, _God._

Alex is fully hard already, cock curving up towards his belly. Nicke keeps his hand on Alex’s hip, holding him as still as he can as he mouths his way along Alex’s dick, just light touches, just to see, and Alex responds by shuddering and swearing fluently in two languages. Nicke can feel how hard he’s trying to stay still. God, it’s fucking crazy, that Nicke is doing this to him. Nicke wants to give him everything.

He leans in again and swirls his tongue around the tip, breathing Alex in, tasting the precome already leaking out. Alex’s hand lands in his hair then, slides down to cup the base of Nicke’s skull, and Nicke closes his eyes and gets to work.

How the fuck he thought he could do this just once, Nicklas has no idea. It’s so – it’s so _much_ , he’s so fucking into how Alex sounds like he’s losing his mind above him, he loves how his dick feels in his mouth, hot and fat and leaking. His own dick is straining against his pants, and Nicke hollows his cheeks, tightens his grip on Alex’s hip, and wants, wants, wants.

He wants to take Alex apart. He wants Alex to pull his hair until his eyes water. He wants to get better at this again so Alex can fuck his mouth. He wants –

He wants to come, at some point, maybe, but he can’t jerk off, one good hand still clutching at Alex’s hip, and Alex is so close, almost sobbing above him, that he doesn’t fucking care.

“ _Nicky_. Nicky, fuck, fuck –”

Nicke looks up through his eyelashes and nearly chokes. Alex looks absolutely destroyed, chest heaving and eyes wild. He groans and thumps his head against the door when he sees Nicke looking, and Nicke redoubles his efforts, digging his fingers into Alex’s hips – come on, come on, come –

Alex shouts when he comes, fingers digging into Nicke’s skull as he shakes and shakes. Nicke swallows, breathes through his nose, swallows again. When it’s over he sits reluctantly back on his heels, letting Alex’s softening dick gently out of his mouth. He’s _very_ aware of his own erection now, Jesus Christ, but before he can get his own belt undone Alex is grabbing his shirt and hauling him up to kiss again, and Nicke’s thoroughly distracted. _Fuck,_ Alex is good at that.

By the time they have to stop for breath, Nicke is going to fucking die if Alex doesn’t touch him soon. He closes his eyes, resting his head on the door as Alex’s hand slides up his back, gooseflesh erupting wherever he touches. Alex’s chest rumbles against his, and Nicke realises he’s laughing, the bastard.

He cracks an eye open, and Alex beams at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You look so _mad_.” He leans in and licks Nicke’s neck, and Nicke swears at him like that deserves. “You don’t like?”

“Oh I _like_ it.” He digs his fingernails into Alex’s side. “I’d like it better if we were –”

Alex cuts him off with kiss that’s so filthy Nicke’s brain short-circuits. Alex starts tugging at him, steering them towards the stairs, and Nicke just goes with it until Alex tries to walk backwards up the stairs while still kissing him, which is a really terrible idea, seriously, what the fuck?

He shoves at him, Alex laughing as he turns around, and Nicke joins in, chasing him up the stairs. God, he loves this idiot.

At least they make it to his bedroom without anyone eating it on the stairs. Nicke flicks on the light and turns – Alex is already there, grabbing him by the hips and guiding him back to the bed. Nicklas gets his hand back in his hair and kisses him again, bites his lip accidentally and then on purpose when he feels the sharp intake of breath it causes.

His knees hit the side of the bed and Alex pushes him down until he’s flat on his back. Alex looms over him, and Nicke is back in the fire, burning up again as Alex gets his hands on him, stripping him out of his suit _finally_.

Oh God. Alex’s mouth joins his hands, finding a nipple, dragging over Nicke’s chest and belly like they’re the most fascinating things Alex has ever seen. Nicke twists under him, desperate. No one has fucking touched him yet, and if Alex doesn’t –

“Hurry the, are you actually – hnng.” Alex sucks where he’s just bitten and then _crawls off him,_ no, what the fuck – oh, he’s taking the rest of his clothes off, okay, that’s, Nicke can work with that. He gets himself away from the edge of the bed, to be on the safe side, and then Alex is on top of him again and thinking gets very, very hard.

There’s nothing but the drag of their cocks against each other, Alex’s mouth on his, on his neck, Nicke’s fingernails scraping Alex’s back, Alex’s hands in his hair, oh oh oh, hips stuttering, skin on skin, oh Jesus Christ…

Alex kisses the moan out of his mouth when Nicke comes, then buries his face in Nicke’s throat. Through the mist of a truly earth-shattering orgasm Nicke can feel him moving, and manages to get it together enough to get his hand between them before Alex comes too, collapsing on top of Nicke and going still.

Holy shit. If this is what rubbing off like a pair of teenagers is like, fucking Alex might actually kill him.

What a way to go, though.

It’s not unpleasant having an enormous Russian as a blanket, but Nicke has to push him off after a minute or so. Alex is fucking heavy. He flops dramatically to the side, grumbling, then heaves himself up and kisses Nicke again. This is a part of Alex Nicklas has never got before, soft and sweet and satisfied, happy to linger. It’s a revelation. Nicke opens his mouth against Alex's and hopes Alex understands.

They do have to stop eventually because neither of them wants to sleep all covered in come. Alex looks indignant when Nicke tries to get up to find a cloth. “I know where stuff is,” and he does, because Nicke’s lived here a long time, even if he’s never had Alex here like this before.

Alex takes a step towards the bathroom, then stops and looks back. “You need pills? Pain meds?”

Nicke blinks at him. Now that he’s thinking about it, he can feel his hand throbbing. He sits up. “Yeah. They’re in my bathroom bag, in –”

“I’ll get. _Stay_.”

Nicke flops back down on the pillows and watches Alex walk naked across the room – hate to see him go, love to watch him leave – and out. He feels like he’s coming out of a daze, reality coming back in little bursts. His hand fucking hurts.

Are they really doing this? Or is he going to wake up alone?

Alex comes back eventually with Nicke’s pills and a glass of water, wearing a pair of tre kronor sweats Nicke has no idea where he found. They’re tight. That’s probably the point – this is Alex they’re talking about. He takes his meds while Alex thumps around in the bathroom, emerging eventually sans sweats again (serious, what the fuck), with a washcloth in hand.

It’s soothing, in a way, to let Alex look after him, even if he’s not _that_ hurt. Nicklas is really feeling the lateness of the hour now, though, and he didn’t even play a hockey game today. When Alex has finished cleaning up Nicke tugs at him until he lies back down and pulls the covers over both of them.

This is nice. He like this. Alex settles with an arm draped over Nicke’s chest, and Nicke turns to kiss him, feeling warm and content. They should do this every night.

Alex nuzzles at his cheek. “Gonna make you pancakes tomorrow.”

Nicke blinks up at the ceiling. God, he really is tired. “What?”

“Breakfast, Nicky.”

“It’s my house, I should be making _you_ breakfast.”

“Can you flip pancakes with one hand?” Nicke makes a disgruntled noise. He could _try_. “See? I make. Conference finalists pancakes, Nicky.”

“If you _insist_.” He’s smiling so much it hurts.

“Sshhh. Go sleep.”

Nicke closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> \- this would not fucking end, holy shit. it is, uh, more porny than I was intending, make of that what you will  
> \- … thanks to everyone who answered my questions about blowjobs  
> \- come say hi on [tumblr!](https://itsahockeynight.tumblr.com)


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